And other folk have wonder'd on the swerd,* *sword That woulde pierce throughout every thing; And fell in speech of Telephus the king, And of Achilles for his quainte spear, <17> For he could with it bothe heal and dere,* *wound Right in such wise as men may with the swerd Of which right now ye have yourselves heard. They spake of sundry hard'ning of metal, And spake of medicines therewithal, And how, and when, it shoulde harden'd be, Which is unknowen algate* unto me. *however Then spake they of Canacee's ring, And saiden all, that such a wondrous thing Of craft of rings heard they never none, Save that he, Moses, and King Solomon, Hadden *a name of conning* in such art. *a reputation for Thus said the people, and drew them apart. knowledge* Put natheless some saide that it was Wonder to maken of fern ashes glass, And yet is glass nought like ashes of fern; *But for* they have y-knowen it so ferne** *because **before <18> Therefore ceaseth their jangling and their wonder. As sore wonder some on cause of thunder, On ebb and flood, on gossamer and mist, And on all things, till that the cause is wist.* *known Thus jangle they, and deemen and devise, Till that the king gan from his board arise.

Phoebus had left the angle meridional, And yet ascending was the beast royal, The gentle Lion, with his Aldrian, <19> When that this Tartar king, this Cambuscan, Rose from the board, there as he sat full high Before him went the loude minstrelsy, Till he came to his chamber of parements,<20> There as they sounded diverse instruments, That it was like a heaven for to hear. Now danced lusty Venus' children dear: For in the Fish* their lady sat full *Pisces And looked on them with a friendly eye. <21> This noble king is set upon his throne; This strange knight is fetched to him full sone,* *soon And on the dance he goes with Canace. Here is the revel and the jollity, That is not able a dull man to devise:* *describe He must have knowen love and his service, And been a feastly* man, as fresh as May, *merry, gay That shoulde you devise such array. Who coulde telle you the form of dances So uncouth,* and so freshe countenances** *unfamliar **gestures Such subtle lookings and dissimulances, For dread of jealous men's apperceivings? No man but Launcelot,<22> and he is dead. Therefore I pass o'er all this lustihead* *pleasantness I say no more, but in this jolliness I leave them, till to supper men them dress. The steward bids the spices for to hie* *haste And eke the wine, in all this melody; The ushers and the squiers be y-gone, The spices and the wine is come anon; They eat and drink, and when this hath an end, Unto the temple, as reason was, they wend; The service done, they suppen all by day What needeth you rehearse their array? Each man wot well, that at a kinge's feast Is plenty, to the most*, and to the least, *highest And dainties more than be in my knowing.

At after supper went this noble king To see the horse of brass, with all a rout Of lordes and of ladies him about. Such wond'ring was there on this horse of brass, That, since the great siege of Troye was, There as men wonder'd on a horse also, Ne'er was there such a wond'ring as was tho.* *there But finally the king asked the knight The virtue of this courser, and the might, And prayed him to tell his governance.* *mode of managing him The horse anon began to trip and dance, When that the knight laid hand upon his rein, And saide, "Sir, there is no more to sayn, But when you list to riden anywhere, Ye muste trill* a pin, stands in his ear, *turn <23> Which I shall telle you betwixt us two; Ye muste name him to what place also, Or to what country that you list to ride. And when ye come where you list abide, Bid him descend, and trill another pin (For therein lies th' effect of all the gin*), *contrivance <10> And he will down descend and do your will, And in that place he will abide still; Though all the world had the contrary swore, He shall not thence be throwen nor be bore. Or, if you list to bid him thennes gon, Trill this pin, and he will vanish anon Out of the sight of every manner wight, And come again, be it by day or night, When that you list to clepe* him again *call In such a guise, as I shall to you sayn Betwixte you and me, and that full soon. Ride <24> when you list, there is no more to do'n.' Informed when the king was of the knight, And had conceived in his wit aright The manner and the form of all this thing, Full glad and blithe, this noble doughty king Repaired to his revel as beforn. The bridle is into the tower borne, And kept among his jewels lefe* and dear; *cherished The horse vanish'd, I n'ot* in what mannere, *know not Out of their sight; ye get no more of me: But thus I leave in lust and jollity This Cambuscan his lordes feastying,* *entertaining <25> Until well nigh the day began to spring.

*Pars Secunda.* *Second Part*

The norice* of digestion, the sleep, *nurse Gan on them wink, and bade them take keep,* *heed That muche mirth and labour will have rest. And with a gaping* mouth he all them kest,** *yawning **kissed And said, that it was time to lie down, For blood was in his dominatioun: <26> "Cherish the blood, nature's friend," quoth he. They thanked him gaping, by two and three; And every wight gan draw him to his rest; As sleep them bade, they took it for the best. Their dreames shall not now be told for me; Full are their heades of fumosity,<27> That caused dreams *of which there is no charge:* *of no significance* They slepte; till that, it was *prime large,* *late morning* The moste part, but* it was Canace; *except She was full measurable,* as women be: *moderate For of her father had she ta'en her leave To go to rest, soon after it was eve; Her liste not appalled* for to be; *to look pale Nor on the morrow *unfeastly for to see;* *to look sad, depressed* And slept her firste sleep; and then awoke. For such a joy she in her hearte took Both of her quainte a ring and her mirrour,. That twenty times she changed her colour; And in her sleep, right for th' impression Of her mirror, she had a vision. Wherefore, ere that the sunne gan up glide, She call'd upon her mistress'* her beside, *governesses And saide, that her liste for to rise.

These olde women, that be gladly wise As are her mistresses answer'd anon, And said; "Madame, whither will ye gon Thus early? for the folk be all in rest." "I will," quoth she, "arise; for me lest No longer for to sleep, and walk about." Her mistresses call'd women a great rout, And up they rose, well a ten or twelve; Up rose freshe Canace herselve, As ruddy and bright as is the yonnge sun That in the Ram is four degrees y-run; No higher was he, when she ready was; And forth she walked easily a pace, Array'd after the lusty* season swoot,** *pleasant **sweet Lightely for to play, and walk on foot, Nought but with five or six of her meinie; And in a trench* forth in the park went she. *sunken path The vapour, which up from the earthe glode,* *glided Made the sun to seem ruddy and broad: But, natheless, it was so fair a sight That it made all their heartes for to light,* *be lightened, glad What for the season and the morrowning, And for the fowles that she hearde sing. For right anon she wiste* what they meant *knew Right by their song, and knew all their intent. The knotte,* why that every tale is told, *nucleus, chief matter If it be tarried* till the list* be cold *delayed **inclination Of them that have it hearken'd *after yore,* *for a long time* The savour passeth ever longer more; For fulsomness of the prolixity: And by that same reason thinketh me. I shoulde unto the knotte condescend, And maken of her walking soon an end.

Amid a tree fordry*, as white as chalk, *thoroughly dried up There sat a falcon o'er her head full high, That with a piteous voice so gan to cry; That all the wood resounded of her cry, And beat she had herself so piteously With both her winges, till the redde blood Ran endelong* the tree, there as she stood *from top to bottom And ever-in-one* alway she cried and shright;** *incessantly **shrieked And with her beak herselfe she so pight,* *wounded That there is no tiger, nor cruel beast, That dwelleth either in wood or in forest; But would have wept, if that he weepe could, For sorrow of her; she shriek'd alway so loud. For there was never yet no man alive, If that he could a falcon well descrive;* *describe That heard of such another of fairness As well of plumage, as of gentleness; Of shape, of all that mighte reckon'd be.